


Kiss Me At Midnight (For All of Eternity(and then some))

by Still_beating_heart



Series: Cheers To Fanfiction (And 2021) [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, New Year's Kiss, New Year's Resolutions, Post-Canon, canon shit applies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_beating_heart/pseuds/Still_beating_heart
Summary: New Year's Eve 20... all of them(ish)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Cheers To Fanfiction (And 2021) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069043
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Kiss Me At Midnight (For All of Eternity(and then some))

**Author's Note:**

> There's a tone to this one that fits Derek's canon hardships, so be warned it's not pure fluff. But it's a soft, sweet ending.

The first time Stiles made Derek laugh it was an accident. And he's pretty sure Derek was laughing at him and not with him, but it didn't matter because Derek was laughing! It was this old, rusty sound like he wasn't sure how to pitch it, like it hadn't been used in ages, and then he got this look like he felt guilty for doing it. And it was horrible. And all Stiles could do was stand there like a gentlemen and gape. Just add to the awkwardness, just throw salt in the wound, he might as well have said, 'hey Derek your laugh sounds really weird, dude.' Well at least he didn't do that. That would be rude. Not that Stiles is never rude. But Derek Hale is a werewolf who could rip his throat out with his teeth and if he didn't know where to hide the body, then certainly Peter would. 

It was on a Tuesday. Just a random old Tuesday. The laugh, that is, not the death by werewolf teeth to the throat. That rusty old unused laugh. It was a Tuesday. Stiles filed it away with all the other random pieces of information he was gathering about Derek. All these little things that he decided no one noticed about him since his entire family died. And no one teased him about it since then either. And no one patted his back, or kissed his head, or touched him, or smiled at him, and holy Hale it was too much to think about. So Stiles started small. Remembered that weird barked out laugh. And he remembered the way he sometimes looks at his hands like he's not sure what to do with them, so he stuffs them in his pockets (how anything can even fit in those tight jeans is beyond Stiles) or crosses them over his giant brute chest. At first he thought it was because he was avoiding ripping someone's throat out with his claws. But then he realized it was more than that. It was an insecurity. And sometimes it was a moment in which a normal person would reach out and touch. Touch a sibling or a parent or a friend or an anything, an anything that Derek didn't have anymore. And Stiles had to wonder how that affected the wolf side of him. The pack thing. And it hurt too much to think about. 

So he started small, damn it! With laughs. With these little constipated smiles that he got out of the big fella from time to time. And sure, he failed sometimes (okay, so, like a lot, a lot of times but every comedian has a bad sketch from time to time). And that's not the point anyway, the point is he figured it out. He figured out how to make Derek Hale laugh! And every time he did it, it got a little easier. Every time that noise came out of his mouth it sounded less rusty, it sounded less like something being painfully ripped out of his chest and started to sound like a reflex. It became addictive. So addictive that Stiles kept track, and he got antsy when he hadn't done it in a long time, and he got itchy when it had been a really long time, and he downright got queasy and sweaty when it went for so long that he was certain Derek had lost the ability again. 

He became such an addict that he made a New Year's resolution to quit. To just quit the old 'make Derek laugh' thing. He made the resolution the year he was seventeen. And that year sucked, alright? It sucked. And then Derek left. He died in the desert and he just left. Which sucked too. And he didn't realize how much until he saw him again. When he was eighteen and doing the whole FBI thing, and there he was. Derek Hale, feral mountain man on a killing spree. Stiles was certain he hadn't laughed in a really long time.

And wouldn't you know it? He was right. Stiles was right. Stiles is always right. He didn't hear Derek Hale laugh again until he was twenty years old. Twenty! He was twenty and single and doing FBI shit to be a real agent someday (yeah so he was in school because a degree is required and then two years on the job is required and then he'll be real FBI shit and that'll be awesome). And he caught up with Derek on a random Saturday in a random eatery on a random grey New York Autumn day. 

Derek was scowling into his coffee, like it had seriously offended him in the most offensive way possible. But even the most terrible of Hale scowls can't deter Stiles when just seeing him made something inside Stiles break a little. 

So he stood there. Wanting to swoop in and save the day, make the coffee taste better, make the day feel better, make something out of probably nothing since Derek is just always wearing a scowl, but he did the very suitable adult thing instead. And stood there. And stared. Until Derek felt him boring holes into his head (and really, werewolf senses the guy should have felt him a long time ago standing there. Staring at him). He turned in slow motion like a hero in an action film when he realizes the shit's about to go down. Well, not really, since real life doesn't have a slow motion. But he turned, and everything else just kind of paused when his eyes landed on Stiles's. And if the guy was surprised to see him there, well, he sure didn't act like it. So maybe werewolf senses, but whatever. He half cocked his head, tried to stifle the beginning of a smile, succeeded, and then glared instead. And that was Stiles's cue to go over there or disappear for all eternity. So he went over there. And invited himself to lunch. With Derek.

Turns out the guy was in New York after all this time because some of Laura's things were still in a storage unit here and he just finally, this many years later, decided it was time to empty it. Or maybe it was just now that he finally got the nerve to empty it. Not that he'd admit that.

And Stiles is a big giant idiot because he couldn't just let the guy do it on his own. He volunteered to go with him for moral support. So here they are. Sorting through Derek's dead sister's stuff. Stiles is trying like hell not to be an asshole, not to be overly emotional since it's not his sister but holy Hale if Derek would just occasionally talk about something or make an expression other than murder, it might help heal his poor broken heart that has got to be so goddamn broken he doesn't even have a single piece of it left to try to glue back together with any of the other pieces strewn about Beacon Hills and New York and oh, oh god, he just lifted one of her shirts and smelled it. There are going to be tears here today and Stiles is not prepared for it. He is not prepared for tears.

Derek takes a deep breath, folds the shirt and goes about this unmerry business of separating things for keeps and for giveaways. And he doesn't shed a tear. Moral support accomplished. Mostly through blabbing his way through explaining his whole schooling thing and the FBI thing and where has Derek been the last few years? Not that he gives Derek a chance to answer that. He growled something, and Stiles knows growls, he is well acquainted with them so he doesn't expect it to be accompanied by words. If he was a wolf he could just sniff at Derek and know where he's been for the last few years. But he's a human so he just has to accept that growl as, 'none of your business, you tiny human creature who is only on this Earth to annoy me to death'. Which, solid point there, Derek. 

But here's the thing. Stiles is living in New York for school. And Derek is here for a weekend. And he's going to stay in a hotel. A hotel with a pool. Stiles likes pools and he decides Derek has no business being alone.

So maybe he stays at the hotel too. And swims in the pool and sits in the hot tub. And gets Derek to talk. A little. Growl a lot. And laugh. A tiny, old, rusty laugh like that one that Stiles was afraid he'd hear. It makes his smile fall right off his face for a brief moment before he realizes that he needs to keep that damn smile there so Derek doesn't feel weird (weirder) about laughing. He needs to laugh! Damn it!

It's possible that Stiles had a few drinks too and Derek tells him to just stay, it's not a big deal. Stiles takes that to mean that he is lonely and he doesn't want to be alone on the night he just sorted out his dead sister's stuff. So he stays. And then just keeps kind of staying. All weekend. Oh, and then he invites Derek over to his place. Since he's got a place that's shitty and broken down but the neighborhood is warm and welcoming and there's a little old lady that lives in the building that bakes him cookies on the second of every month. And they're usually burned, but she brings her cookies, stays for a cup of coffee and talks about the good old days (Stiles is pretty sure she's an old mobster, but he hasn't asked yet.). 

Derek just kind of stays. Stays in New York. Maybe it's the pack thing. And Stiles has no pack here. So Derek is taking it upon himself to look out for him by sleeping on his couch. Not that he sleeps much. Some days he just disappears, leaves a note at least, and he's pretty sure the furry four-legged wolf is running around the wild parts of the State, and maybe Canada. When he comes back he seems looser. 

When Dad decides to come out here for Christmas instead of Stiles flying home, since Dad's never been to New York, and Derek is still there if Dad is surprised to see him, he doesn't act like it. Derek probably hasn't had a Christmas since his family died. Unless maybe he spent one with Cora and her pack down South. Stiles asked, and Derek growled something about how they were treating each other like the people they remembered from before the fire, like they were too desperate to hold together something that was too far gone. Maybe he didn't say it in those terms, but that's what Stiles got from it. And he gets it. Really. He does. It's like holding on to your high school friends for so long even after you no longer recognize each other, but trying desperately to be the same old people you once loved. Sure, it works, but it's different. Stiles wonders if it'll ever be that way with him and Scott. He hopes not. But he kind of thinks it is. 

So Derek probably hasn't had a real Christmas in ages. And that blows. It makes Stiles remember the first Christmas after his mom died. And how much it just felt empty. Christmas morning with Dad and Derek, presents under the tiny table top tree, coffee, and charred toast. It's the best Christmas Stiles has had since his mom died. And Derek laughs. Stiles decides it's okay to hoard them this time, to hoard all those little sounds, all those little smiles, the chuckles and the 'I'm not amused, Stiles' noises that clearly say he is amused and he's trying to act like an adult. Stiles hoards them. Each and every single precious little gem of a moment that Derek gives him. 

He realizes a few days after Christmas that what they have here, whatever it is, it's amazing. This tiny apartment feels so much more like home than it did when it was just him. Those smiles, those laughs. They fill the rooms with something that Stiles can't put words on. And Stiles is good at words. So it must be something big. 

It's New Year's Eve that he wonders, "you wanna go do the big New York New Year's stuff? All the crowds and noise and the big countdown?"

Derek's eyes drift to the floor, his shoulders stiffen and he opens his mouth to accept the offer, but Stiles cuts him off. Because that shit won't do. He doesn't want to go, because he probably went with Laura when they lived here and he probably doesn't want to relive that, or replace it maybe. So Stiles cuts him off, "actually you know what? I went last year and it was horrible. So I vote we stay in. Watch a movie and make resolutions we won't follow through on."

Derek nods, but there's that damn guilt. Like he thinks he's ruining Stiles's plans by not having jumped at the chance to go out and get cheap champagne and beer sprayed all over him while drunk strangers brush up against him in inappropriate ways, which makes Stiles wonder what it's like to be in a body like Derek's. Where he was raised to touch like a wolf, and then Kate used it as a weapon, and then he grew up to be blazingly hot so he has to deal with plenty of people crossing plenty of boundaries just because he looks good and takes care of himself and wow, that's a lot of weird and horrible things that Derek probably has touching issues because of. He deserves more than that, he deserves to be worshipped after the shitty shitness of his life. 

Thinking about Derek's life is not good for Stiles's mental health. 

"Star Wars or Star Wars?" he wonders when Derek is silent for way too long.

His eyes land on Stiles's, with something like gratitude in their depths before the scowl rises to hide it, "that's not a choice."

"It is though. Because there are like so many Star Wars to choose from and I bet you've never seen any of them. Oh my Hale, Derek, we are going to have to start this picture show now. Like, right now. Get your fat-pants on and pop some popcorn, we're having an all-dayer."

"An all-dayer?"

"If you can have an all-nighter then you can have an all-dayer."

Derek shrugs and before he can respond, Stiles tells him, "and in case you were wondering fat-pants are the ones you wear when you know you are going to overeat and have a bulged out belly. Something you have probably never experienced," and he jabs a finger into Derek's chest as punctuation.

Derek's brow raises, but it's totally lacking murderous. So Stiles takes it as a win.

It's somewhere in the middle of throwing popcorn at one another, Derek obviously catching every single piece, and Stiles not so much. Somewhere in the mess of his feet on Derek's lap, and the sound of Derek's laugh blanketing the room when Stiles realizes he was so wrong. He was so very wrong that year that feels like it was millions ago, that year that he made a resolution to stop trying to make Derek laugh. That was the dumbest resolution he's ever made. Because that laugh? That one that lights up his eyes and shows his teeth and makes Stiles's heart lurch. That one? It should be heard. So often.

So Stiles has a new resolution. To make him laugh so often that he grows tired of the sound (he's sure that's not possible). But damn it! He'll try! 

When the laughter dies down, his eyes still twinkling, still on Stiles's face, the other part of New Year's Eve kicks in. The whole kiss thing. He starts thinking about that. And he's glad he didn't realize earlier that he wanted to kiss Derek. That he wanted to kiss him so badly his back teeth hurt. If he head realized it, these whole last wonderful months would have been awkward. But he also realizes that a first kiss with a guy like Derek (if he's even interested, if he even swings that way, if he's even sexually attracted to anyone with the past he's had, if he's even...

"Stiles," it's soft. His voice is. So are his eyes. And they haven't left Stiles's. 

...on the market) it can't be forced because of some tradition of kissing people on New Year's. And it can't be staged. And it can't be for any other reason than...

"I want to kiss you," he blurts it. Smooth. Very smooth.

But to his shock, and maybe horror because his brain is slowly starting to shut down and he's not sure exactly how he's supposed to feel about kissing Derek Hale in his fat-pants with popcorn in his teeth and probably food stains on his t-shirt and dirty hair and lord only knows what could be on his face, Derek nods. Derek nods! Derek!!! Nods!!!! And he's still smiling so softly, and there's a yearning in his eyes, and he barely whispers, "I'd like that."

"You would? You would like it if I kissed you? If I just..." those eyes are so godawful twinkly it's killing him, "I mean. You would. You totally would. Because I am a great kisser. And you are," his voice trails off, like his breath has been stolen from him and he lifts his lazy ass off the couch so he can sit up, and get closer. So he can in fact reach the man he is attempting to kiss. He watches his own hand rise, land on Derek's stubbled cheek. His thumb brushes across his cheekbone, and he finishes with, "beautiful. Derek. You are beautiful," and he leans in. Oh wow, he's doing this. He's actually kissing him. He's kissing Derek Hale. And it is. It is. Well, kissing is an overstatement because he's just kind of leaning his lips against Derek's. And it feels like time has stood still but it's sped up at the same time. And he's going to open his eyes and they'll both be wrinkled and grey and still sitting in a dingy old apartment in New York with all the New Year's Eve stuff happening down in the streets but up here in this little bubble none of that matters. 

Derek makes a noise. It's low in his throat, his hand finds the small of Stiles's back and that's it, that's enough to break the ice that has begun to encase him. He's going to kiss him for real now. He's going to kiss him breathless and stupid and they'll both be reeling by the end of it. But that's all. That is all he will do. Is kiss him. For now. And make him laugh. He's going to make him laugh. 

Yep. That's it. That's the goal. To kiss Derek whenever he allows it. And to make him laugh. So much. So very, very much.

"I think we missed midnight," is the super intelligent thing that comes out of his mouth when he leaves those warm lips for a breath.

Derek shrugs, "I think there will be more."

"For us or just in general? In general, I think there will be an eternity and then some, since even after humankind goes extinct, Mother Nature will still exist and the Earth with still be rotating around the Sun but we'll be long gone and..."

Derek shuts him up by leaning back in to his lips. And yep, he means for them. He means there will be more for them. There will be more midnights and more New Year's kisses, and more movie nights and cuddling on the couch, and all of this Home that he's created just by being here. It will be here. And there will be more. 

"All of eternity and then some," he mumbles against Derek's lips, "I'm on board for that," sliding a hand up his shoulder to cover the back of his neck gently, "cheers then. To eternity and beyond," he might still be kissing him, but it feels a lot more like smiling against a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick Happy New Year to my user subscribers, fandom friends, and anyone else reading this :) Thanks for the support!


End file.
